


A Fitting Legacy

by bzarcher



Category: Vorkosigan Saga - Lois McMaster Bujold
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-17
Updated: 2013-11-29
Packaged: 2018-01-01 21:00:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 14,988
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1048521
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bzarcher/pseuds/bzarcher
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As Miles gets closer to 50 than 40, Gregor sets his sights on a unique and difficult goal, that only Count Vorkosigan can help him achieve.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Requested and Required

**Author's Note:**

> I originally just had a working title of "Legacy", then found another fic with the same title, so I've changed mine to avoid confusion.

_Vorkosigan House  
Vorbarr Sultana_

As his age got closer to 50 than 40, Miles found himself subject to a legion of aches, pains, and twinges that were far less severe than anything he dealt with as a child, yet managed to be more annoying somehow. Perhaps it was the way they all ganged up on him when he wasn’t looking. It hardly seemed fair.

Listening to the morning report as his body registered the numerous petitions, he could feel the faint warmth at his side that meant Ekaterin had gotten up ahead of him, and intended to see if she had beaten him to the shower when his attention was arrested by a very particular set of tones coming from his bedroom Comconsole. Suddenly wide awake, he swung his feet to the floor and padded over, pausing only to pull a nightshirt over his head before sitting down at the station chair.

“Good morning, Sire.”

“Good morning, Miles. I apologize for starting your day this way, but I’ve been considering some matters, and would like to speak to you about them at your earliest convenience today.”

Gregor _looked_ like he’d been chewing over something significant. His face was just slightly more pensive than usual, and he’d almost swear that his foster brother’s hair had turned a bit more iron-grey.

“Just so I’m properly armed, is this a matter in my Auditorial capacity?”

“Not…directly. This is something that involves you as Count Vorkosigan.”

Hm. Somehow that sounded ominous. Miles hoped it wouldn’t be another damned committee.

“Very well. Let me give Ekaterin fair warning and I’ll be around directly.”

“Thank you, Miles. I’ll see you shortly.”

Ekaterin stepped out of their shower as the call ended, and Miles took a moment for pure aesthetic appreciation of his Countess returning to their bedroom, wrapped in nothing but a pair of well fluffed towels.

“Good morning, dear.”

“Good morning, my lady. Have I mentioned you look beautiful?”

Her lips quirked slightly, but her answer was perfectly deadpan. “I believe you might have said something along those lines last night, yes.”

“Heh. Unfortunately, I can’t expound on that theme. Gregor called. Wants to see me this morning at my earliest convenience in my capacity as Count Vorkosigan.” Even after ten years, that felt a bit odd, leaving his throat. Still, Countess Vorkosigan seemed as natural a fit for Ekaterin as Lady Vorkosigan had, and she simply took the news with grace, turning to their closet. “I’ll lay out your house uniform, then. Have you told Roic to bring the car around?”

“Next on my list.”


	2. Coffee and Conversation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Miles decided to take a particular privilege. “Gregor, what the Hell?”

_The Imperial Residence  
Vorbarr Sultana_

Miles didn’t think anything seemed particularly unusual as he entered Gregor’s office. Nothing seemed particularly amiss, and the residence staff were warm and polite as he entered. No sign of any heightened security or domestic issues. So what was going on? Gregor was dressed in a nicely cut suit – purely civilian – and sitting one of the couches,  half turned to look out onto the expanded and improved Imperial gardens. Miles couldn’t help but smile at the sight of his wife’s hard work being appreciated, and relaxed a bit as he stepped over.

“Good morning, again, Gregor.”

“Thank you for coming by so promptly.” Gesturing to the couch facing his own, Gregor straightened and nodded to the coffee service. “I realize you probably had one cup on the way, but I thought I would offer.”

“Thank you, yes.” Preparing himself a cup, he took a first blissful sip before setting it down on a saucer and giving his foster-brother a careful look. “So. You wanted to discuss something.”

“Yes. I need to ask you for something, and I think you’re the one person who can pull this off.” Gregor gave him a slow, careful look, then took a deep breath. “I need you to do something that will be, at best, politically difficult.”

Miles frowned. “Is this another look at expanding the bio-laws? I thought we had a pretty good run. Or are you seriously considering modifying primogeniture to remove salic descent? That's a can of worms I'd prefer not to open if at all possible.”

Gregor smiled. “Nothing that simple, I’m afraid.”

Miles decided to take a particular privilege. “Gregor, what the Hell?”

That got an Imperial laugh, but he shifted back into business mode after just a moment. “I need you to be the point man for a diplomatic effort. The precedent of using a Count, or for that matter, an Auditor, is fairly well established.”

Miles considered that, possibilities running through his head. “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but are you sure you don’t want Ivan on this one?”

“He’s done well in his new career, and I do believe he and his Lady will prove useful along the way, but because of your…unique qualifications, it must begin with you.”

“I live to serve, Sire, but I’d really like to know just what you have in mind.”

“I need you to go to Eta Ceta for me, Miles.”

 _Oh, shit._ Suddenly, the idea of a committee didn’t sound so bad.


	3. Diplomatic inquiries

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Groundwork is laid.

_The Celestial Garden_  
 _Office of the Imperial Guard  
_ _Eta Ceta_

_  
_Even within the ritualized and often painstakingly choreographed buisness of the Celestial Garden, it was a bit unusual for Ghem-General Dag Benin to receive an actual letter. Particularly a letter that came in a sealed diplomatic pouch, with Barrayar's current ambassador waiting outside of his office.

Pressing his thumb to a raised section of the pouch, he felt a brief warmth as his fingerprint was read, and a moment later the sealed container opened. The fact that the Barrayarans had his biometric data was interesting, but likely could be put down to his memorable visits to the heart of their empire. Even so, his lips quirked as he extracted a fine paper envelope, with a familiar mountain and maple leaf seal embossed into the flap. From what he could recall of their traditions...yes, that most certainly was dried blood in the embossed sigil, marking it as from the Count's own hand. 

"Interesting, indeed."

Opening the letter, his lips pursed as he read through the usual pleasantries and turned slowly to a frown as he began to read the meat of the message. After a few moments, he set the letter down on his desk, then made a slight gesture to his door. "Please ask the ambassador to enter."

Waiting for his guest to be seated, Benin paused until the door had shut before gesturing to the papers on his desk. "Did you have any briefing on this message?"

The ambassador, Lord Vormatsos, shook his head. "No, General. I was simply given the pouch with an order from my Imperial Master to deliver it to your own hand."

"Ah."

"May I ask if you have any reply?"

Tilting his head to the side, Benin considered that. "Please express to Count Vorkosigan that I have no personal objections to his request, but I must speak to my own Master before I can provide a final approval for his visit."

Vormatsos' eyebrows shot up. "Count Vorkosigan is requesting permission to visit the Celestial Garden?"

"In part. Count Vorkosigan is, properly, requesting permission to petition Fletchir Giaja himself."

"I...see. Hence your question on if I had been properly briefed." 

Benin gave the man a look of some sympathy. He was rather familiar with those in power not telling him everything that he might feel he needed to know.

The ambassador stood, giving a respectful nod. "With your permission, I would like to communicate your reply, and will be available to deliver any...further information."

Opening his hand to the door, Benin provided his own respectful dismissal. "That would be most acceptable."


	4. Opening The Gate

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An unexpected form for the answer to take.

_Vorkosigan House_

Even though it was likely to be the simplest part of his task, Miles couldn't help but feel a bit anxious about the response to his letter. Even sending it by fast courier still meant it was nearly three weeks before the letter reached Eta Ceta.

The initial reply from Vormatsos was promising, but since then he'd been waiting for the better part of a month for more news. He'd given Ekaterin a very carefully restricted explanation of Gregor's request - not much beyond the fact that he'd asked for Miles to travel to the Celestial Garden for a diplomatic envoy, but kept quiet beyond that. Still, she could tell he'd been wittering over it, and had periodically ordered him to go take a walk through the gardens to "burn off some nerves."

He'd thrown himself into some work for the District and kept his hands busy with a few low level Auditorial concerns, but the unresolved question continued to itch until finally, he received an unexpected comconsole call. 

"Lord Auditor Count Vorkosigan?"

"Yes, Captain, ah...?"

"Captain Martin Lucas, sir, Vorbarr Sultana Imperial Shuttleport. I've received some unusual visitors in customs, and they've requested to speak with you."

"I...see. Is their paperwork in order?"

"Perfectly, sir. But their presence is rather unorthodox."

Hm. That could describe quite a few potential visitors, honestly. Anything from Bel, Nicol, and a passel of little quaddies to a full on Dendarii combat squad. Though he suspected Quinn would at least call first. Probably.

"I'll be there shortly."

Ending the call and grabbing his cane as he stood, his off-hand swung up, wristcom coming to life with a twitch of his muscles. "Roic, I need a car and at least one other Armsman to accompany us down to Vorbarr Sultana Imperial."

"Yes, m'lord. Should I alert the house staff?"

"Mm. Advise the Countess we may have a visitor. Or several.  But I don't believe it's a security situation."

"Yes, M'lord."

The ride to the shuttleport was surprisingly decent today. The municipal traffic control grid had (finally!) made a dent in the usual snarls, particuarly on the expressway leading into the heart of the capital, but Miles still expected at least fifteen minutes of traffic delays on these trips, even for a Lord Auditor. 

Entering the Arrivals terminal, Roic guided the groundcar towards the customs and security area, and a few quick discussions with the local patrollers saw them escored to the security offices within a few moments of arrival. 

Captain Lucas appeared to be moderately tall, dark haired, and looking a bit harried. Coming to not-quite-attention as Miles entered the room, his expression was somewhere between relief and anticipation of more trouble. 

"Thank you for coming so quickly, my Lord Count."

"Traffic was fairly well behaved today. Can you explain what the issue is, now?"

"It may be easier if I show you."

Mm. One of those.

"Very well."

Pulling up a display on the wall of his office, Lucas tapped a few keys before the image resolved into a holding area. Well appointed, but still meant to contain its' guests, which in this case were a rather jump-lagged looking Dag Benin and the floating sphere of a Haut-woman's float chair.

"Oh. It seems I'm getting my answer personally, then. Poor Dag looks like he's been put through the wringer."

Lucas seemed like he wanted to fall over, but managed to keep his control. Barely. Roic kept quiet, but Miles could sense his increased tension. Not shocking, given the way things went the last time he'd seen at least one of those people in person.

"You know these...personages...my Lord?"

"Yes. Well, certainly the Ghem-General. It is...likely...that I know the woman in the float chair, but difficult to say for certain. They are likely here to discuss a diplomatic effort I am currently involved in."

"I'll...see to it that they're released to your care, then. Shall I mark the paperwork as a diplomatic visit?" 

Miles paused, and tapped his fingers against the shaft of his cane thoughtfully.

"No. This is currently a very need to know affair, and I don't think Gregor wants it discussed publically yet. Please mark them as my personal guests as Count Vorkosigan and issue them visas for Vorbarr Sultana and my District."

"Immediately, my Lord."

Miles hustled to the best of his ability, with Roic and Sanedi, one of the newer Armsmen, keeping up with him at a brisk trot. They arrived just as Lucas escorted Genim and his haut companion to the arrivals lounge.

"Dag! This was an unexpected way to answer my letter."

Benin bowed, graceful despite his obvious need to find somewhere to lie down for a few hours, and gestured to the float bubble. "After some discussions, it was decided it would be best to communicate the decisions made in person. Haut Pel and I made our journey here as swiftly as possible, given the circumstances."

"I don't doubt it - pardon the faux pas, but you look like hell, Dag. Let's continue this discussion at Vorkosigan house. We would be honored to host you as our guests and give you the chance to refresh yourselves."

"That would be...most kind."

Miles had to wonder how Pel was able to control the float chair's force bubble so precisely as he watched it contract just enough to allow her ingress into the groundcar's passenger section, but restrained his curiousity. 

"May I ask after the health of your Master, and his Empresses?"

Pel's voice was amused, and the bubble dimmed enough to allow him to see a dance in her eyes. 

"The keeper of the star-creche is quite well, and is interested in your request. The others are equally well, but I suspect less of your immediate concern." 

Dag took up the thread after a deferential nod towards the bubble. "My master is in good health, and as to the rest...we shall discuss it presently."

The ride home was equally short, and Roic had clearly given some forewarning to the gate guards, who passed them through, while the balance of their on-duty Armsmen were assembled at the front door of Vorkosigan House, flanking Ekaterin as she waited for their guests.

As the car came to a stop, Jankowski came down to open the door, while Miles gestured to the front steps.

"Welcome to Vorkosigan House."


	5. Acceptance and Adjustments

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dinner is eaten, answers are given, and a surprise is had.

After seeing their guests into a set of rooms, Miles and Ekaterin took a chance to sit in the Yellow Parlor.

"I've already arranged for Lizzie and Taurie to visit Uncle Duv and Aunt Delia tonight for a sleepover. And I called Ma Kosti to ask if she'd mind coming out of semi-retirement for the evening to take care of dinner."

Beaming, Miles couldn't help but salute her. 

"You're ahead of me today. I certainly didn't expect this, but I think it would be best if we keep it quiet. The less people know about their visit, the less questions will be asked. I hope. Thank god Helen and Sasha are off at school."

"Miles...about this request of Gregor's..."

"I really can't talk about it yet. I want to - believe me - but..." His hand made that little gesture that was shorthand for so much. 

"Can you tell me if it's dangerous? This...diplomatic mission of yours?"

Miles paused, thoughtful. 

"It really shouldn't be. It's a political minefield, of course, but not in a blood and battle sense."

She nodded, and seemed to relax. 

"Of course...our honeymoon trip to Quaddie space was just supposed to be untangling some legal paperwork."

Ekaterin grimaced, and became thoughtful until Aurie Roic announced that dinner was ready to be served.

* * *

 

For a woman who claimed she was happy to retire and enjoy her grandchildren, Ma Kosti seemed eager to take any chance she had at putting on meals at Vorkosigan House, or occasionally being "borrowed" by the Imperial Family, among others. Tonight, she seemed impressively unfazed by her Lord Count's guests, and served up a delightful set of five courses, all geared on the light and refreshing side to compensate for their recent travels. Surprisingly, Pel ate with them, manipulating her bubble again, this time adjusting it to bend around the table and somehow encapsulate her place at the table, while retracting it periodically to allow for plates to be removed or replaced. Keeping the bubble opaque when any of the house staff entered the room, she made reduced it to a more transparent form when it was simply the four of them.

They'd finished a dessert course that included a spiced fruit tart and a small dish of maple ambrosia for each of them before matters turned to the business that had brought their unusual guests to Barrayar.

Benin began, after a quick glance at Pel that was answered with the slightest of head movements. Miles was not surprised that Dag formally touched his lips before speaking, much as he had at Gregor's Wedding.

"After some discussion, my Celestial Master extends his welcome to you, Lord Auditor Count Vorkosigan, and will be pleased to hear your petition. He asks that you accompany us back to Eta Ceta so that he may speak to you at the earliest convenience." He reached into his uniform jacket, and brought forth an elegant looking codecard that appeared to be pass and passport all in one. Setting it on the table, he gently eased it towards his host.

Miles let out a long, slow breath, relief in his face.  _Step one._

 _"_ I am grateful for his welcome. I look forward to speaking with him, and extend him both my thanks, and that of my Emperor, in our breath and Voice." 

Both of the Cetagandans nodded, but then things went decidedly off script when Pel continued the conversation.

"In addition, I have been charged by my Lady, the Empress Rian Degtiar, to ask for Countess Vorkosigan to accompany you." As she spoke, Benin placed a second card on the table, and set it towards Ekaterin's place.

_Urk._

Miles was caught doubly flat footed when Ekaterin nodded. "Your Lady is most gracious. Had she not requested my presence, I intended to make my own request to accompany my husband."

Well. Miles supposed that it would be all right. After all, Nikki was out on his own, Helen and Sasha were finishing University, and Taurie and Lizzie were both old enough to take care of themselves, particularly with the household to look after them. Still...dammit. He would be glad to have her with him, but if anything went wrong with this, he didn't care for it to splash on her.

Still.

One look over at her, and he knew he wouldn't have been able to change her mind, regardless. So perhaps, after a call to Gregor later, it was time to brief her in after all.

They were pleasant, afterwards, but Benin clearly still needed some rest, and Miles and Ekaterin politely suggested that their guests could retire while they made preparations to pack for the journey.

With a little effort, they could be on their way by tomorrow afternoon.


	6. Audience

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Miles' audience with Fletchir Giaja was just the start of Gregor's request.

_Eta Ceta_

_  
_Ekaterin had been pleased that the Cetagandan version of a fast courier was somewhat more pleasantly appointed than the Barrayaran equivalent, but after two and a half weeks of hard acceleration, multiple wormhole jumps, and tight quarters, she was grateful to finally be on a planet's surface once again.

She still remembered their visit to Rho Ceta, and at Miles's suggestion she had brought the Warrant of the Celestial House with her, just in case it was needed to "present a bit of awe." She rather thought the awe was being presented to them as they had been shuttled down to the planet's surface, giving her a chance to appreciate the elegantly sculpted landscape. Miles had made some noises about having seen it before, but even he admitted that it was different approaching during the day cycle, this time, and appreciated the sculpting of an entire planet to a unique combination of form and function. 

Despite being raised to fear these people, if not hate them, Ekaterin felt something much closer to respect, if not affection. They shared more than a few passions for shaping nature, in their own ways, and the fact she was able to squeeze her husband's hand for a brief moment, rather than weeping beside another grave, was also to their credit.

She felt...transitory...here. Amidst gardens on a planetary  scale, that had been laid down before the end of the Time of Isolation, still being tended towards some unknown design. She was wrapped in her dignity as Countess Vorkosigan, and as a woman to whom the Celestial Garden owed much honor, and somehow the two did not clash. 

In deference to their journey, Miles and Ekaterin were installed at the Barrayaran embassy and told that they would have the better part of a day to collect themselves before the audience with the Celestial Master. Ekaterin was glad she'd insisted Miles check his levels and use his stimulator during the voyage. 

Carefully oblique about the purpose of their trip, they deflected questions from the embassy staff through lunch, dinner, breakfast, and another lunch before being informed that General Benin would be appearing just past midafternoon for them, and Miles finally took Ambassador Vormatsos into his office for a briefing behind closed, locked, and shielded doors. 

Dressed in his best house uniform, and sporting the Order of Merit he'd received here so many years before, Miles and the Ambassador walked from his office directly to the portico where she was waiting, with Miles looking some combination of tense and relieved, while Vormatsos was left looking like he'd been hit with a brick. She had decided to wear a carefully cut gown in Vorkosigan brown, chased with silver detailing that evoked the mountain clouds at the hem of her skirt and cuffs of her sleeves. Carrying her Warrant in one hand, she gave her husband a quick smile, knowing the reason for his tension after a quiet briefing at the Residence just before they'd left.

Benin was decked out in his blood red dress uniform, his face paint impeccable as he stepped out of the long aircar that pulled up to the embassy. With a deep bow, he ushered them into the car for the trip to the West Gate, passing with a weight of silent expectation.

Ushered through the garden by Benin and a set of ba servitors, Ekaterin couldn't help but shiver slightly as she recognized their similarity to "Ker Dubauer", reminding her again of that unpleasant journey, but closed her eyes for just a moment to push it away and focus. She needed to be calm, now, and focused. 

Lead through the force shielded gardens, they finally reached a wide clearing, with a raised pavillion and carefully sculpted trees and topiary that reminded her of the seaside for reasons she couldn't quite explain.

At the top of the pavillion, wearing an elaborate robe of exquisite colors and flanked by servitors and several force-shielded haut ladies, sat Fletchir Giaja. She could see the resemblance between the Emperor and the ba they had encountered before, but where the ba's implanted hair had been snow white, Giaja's remained dark, though flecks of grey had begun a dignified progression along his temples. His face was set in a sardonic, bemused expression, but she could also see a fierce curiousity in his eyes.

Benin stepped towards the pavillion's base, then bowed low to his Emperor.

"My Celestial Master, I present Lord Auditor Count Miles Vorkosigan, of Barrayar, his wife, the Countess Ektaterin Vorkosigan, and Ambassador Spiro Vormatsos."

Giaja nodded, then gestured with one graceful hand. "My thanks, General." His voice was a powerful baritone, and carried without any obvious sign of amplification. "Count Vorkosigan. Your request was most unexpected. We are here to receive you, and to hear the petition which you have requested to bring before Us."

Miles nodded, and squeezed Ekaterin's hand for a moment before stepping forward himself.

"Sir. My thanks, again, for receiving me." Waiting for a moment, he received a nod before continuing on. "I am here at the request of my Imperial Master, Gregor Vorbarra, to speak to you in his own Breath and Voice. I was asked to carry the petition on his behalf, not simply because of my rank or title, but because it is His hope that you will recognize that I have acted to preserve the honor of both Cetaganda and Barrayar in the past, and offer my service to both of you as proof of my good faith."

That brought more of a reaction, as Ekaterin could detect a distinct rustle among the haut ladies, while Fletchir Giaja seemed to straighten slightly and give Miles a carefully searching look.

"This is...unusual, Count Vorkosigan, but both my Empresses and I recognize that you have done us no small service, and with much honor. I would hear your Master's words."

 Miles took a moment, wetting his lips slightly before speaking again.

"My master requests to speak with you, Celestial Master Fletchir Giaja of the haut. He wishes a summit between you, as an Emperor of three worlds, and as a head of state."

The rustle had become a buzzing murmur, but Giaja's upheld hand brought silence.

"What, precisely, does your Master propose?"

Miles took a slow, deep breath, and Ekaterin could see his hand tense, just slightly, on the head of his cane before giving his answer.

"Emperor Gregor Vorbarra requests and requires me to ask if he may come here, to Eta Ceta, and treat with you in the Celestial Garden."


	7. Repercussions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Miles had expected the waiting to be the worst part...

_Barrayaran Embassy  
_ _Eta Ceta_

 _  
_"Love, if you don't stop pacing, I'm going to ask Roic for his stunner."

Miles stopped, turning back towards Ekaterin with a slightly sheepish smile. "That bad?"

"You've already worn a track in the carpet. I expect you'd take the finish off the floor for an encore."

"Mm. I suppose if it took them almost two weeks to decide if I would be allowed to speak to Fletchir Giaja that this would take considerably more time, but I hadn't expected almost a month to go by without an answer."

The quarters they'd been given were, he was fairly sure, the same that he and Ivan had occupied on their last visit. They weren't confined, precisely, but given Gregor's desire for absolute secrecy until this came through (or didn't), they'd decided it would be best if they were to stay on the embassy grounds, with the exception of a few diplomatic and social functions. The most interesting had been a private audience between Ekaterin and the Empress Rian. Miles had no idea what they'd discussed, and wasn't entirely sure he would wish to ask, but Ekaterin had seemed reasonably pleased when she'd returned, and mentioned they'd spent some time walking through the Empress's private meditation garden. 

On reflection, he was VERY sure he did not want to ask what they'd discussed.

Still, he'd have given his right arm for something, dammit. This silence was better than a denial, but it wasn't anything he enjoyed.

Two days after he'd been admonished (and had taken to periodically tapping his cane against his thigh as he attempted to flip through the embassy's daily briefings, until that, too, had been addressed), a ba arrived at the embassy, requesting that Miles and Ekaterin return to the West Gate.

This time, Miles dressed in his Auditor's suit, since he was more properly representing Gregor now than himself, and Ekaterin had chosen a long flowing gown in a complimentary blue that evoked a bit of South Continent fashion. Escorted by the the ba, they traveled in one of the open topped air cars that Miles had seen flitting around on his last visit, and he hoped his hair would be somewhat presentable after they finally arrived.

He made some attempts to smooth it into place once the car stopped at the Gate, but Ekaterin clucked softly under her breath and quickly made her own adjustments, including a slight tug to the back of his collar where it had apparently decided to go rogue. 

A brief squeeze of her hand as she finished said various things he didn't feel a need to share with the ba, and they followed the servitor through the gate and into another garden clearing, this one apparently set for a tea service.

Fletchir Giaja was not present, nor Benin, but a single haut woman's float bubble sat, colored a gentle yellow that reminded him of a sunbeam. 

"Welcome, Count Vorkosigan. Countess Vorkosigan. I am Lisl, handmaiden to my Empress." The bubble grew translucent, and a relatively young looking woman with a long fall of wheat colored hair nodded to them, before the bubble returned to its' normal state.

"I have been asked to aid you in arranging the particulars for your lord Emperor's visit. I believe you would consider me the equivalent of a minister of protocol."

 _Yes!_ Now they were getting somewhere. Miles bowed, and smiled brightly. "I look forward to working with you."

"Indeed. Please enjoy these refreshments, and then I will request the remainder of the committee join us so we can begin discussing our plans."

Miles could feel his face falling. He was reasonably sure his devoted and loving wife was trying quite hard not to laugh.

A committee. A  _haut_ committee, at that.

Oh, no...


	8. London Calling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Good morning, Ambassador.”
> 
> “Good morning, Evgeni.”
> 
> “Coffee and the morning diplomatic pouch are at your desk.”
> 
> “Wonderful.” At least he'd had breakfast with Tej before he dove in. He was starting to appreciate the snake based filing system more and more these days…

_London  
Earth_

Ambassador Lord Ivan Vorpatril liked being back in London. The narrow, winding streets of the ancient city still gave him pleasant reminders of the oldest bits of Vorbarr Sultana. The shopping was pretty incredible, there were a number of opportunities for dining, they had easy access for trips into the countryside or other major cities, and he and Tej found themselves with no shortage of cultural events to take in.

About his only complaint was the seemingly everpresent rain this time of year, but his old Service greatcoat and a broad brimmed hat took care of that, for the most part.

After experiencing English Weather, he’d joked privately about moving this embassy to a more tropical climate as well, (his new boss, the Minister of State had dryly referred to it as a ‘signature move’ in his last evaluation after reviewing their stints on Ylla, Toranira, and Rodeo), but the embassy took in a great deal of established traffic, and besides, the relocation of a staff larger than his family and an attaché or two would get messy. After due discussion with his wife, they’d settled on renting a nicely appointed flat for themselves, but kept it within quick access to his office using the tube system.

Shaking himself off a bit as he stepped from the sidewalk to the embassy’s foyer, he’d barely had time to doff the hat before one of his staffers had stepped up to help with the coat.

“Good morning, Ambassador.”

“Good morning, Evgeni.”

“Coffee and the morning diplomatic pouch are at your desk.”

“Wonderful.” At least he'd had breakfast with Tej before he dove in. He was starting to appreciate the snake based filing system more and more these days…

Wearing a nicely cut suit that he’d been semi-ordered by his wife to acquire for himself on Saville Row shortly after they’d arrived, he gave a smile and nod to the various attaches, officers, and functionaries he passed on his way to his desk.

To his surprise, the ImpSec courier who had presumably delivered today’s dispatches from home was sitting in a chair beside the door to his private office.

“Ambassador.”

“Lieutenant. I’m surprised you aren’t sleeping off the jump lag.”

“I have orders to stay on the premises until you’ve opened and reviewed the documents I delivered.”

“Are you expecting to take something back with you?"

“Couldn’t say, sir. The pouch was sealed and marked for your eyes only.”

“Huh. Well, if you haven’t already, ask for someone to scare you up some coffee and breakfast. There’s this thing they call black pudding….well, you sort of have to try it.”

“Uh…thank you, sir. I’ve had something while I was waiting for you to arrive.”

Ivan nodded, half shrugged, and stepped into his office, closing the door behind him. The pouch was sitting next to a gently steaming mug and a silver carafe on the center of the desk. He decided to handle the mug, first, to make sure his brain was completely up to speed before he opened the pouch. Whatever was going on, this seemed a bit unusual. Unusual meant trouble. Very possibly _Miles_ and trouble.

Unsealing the pouch, he found a neatly wrapped envelope marked with the House Vorbarra crest, and a flimsy folder that was almost certainly travel documents. The last time they’d gotten a pouch like this had been his recall home and appointment to Earth, just over a year and a half ago. He hadn’t screwed up anything that would warrant a recall home in that time, so what was all this?

Slitting the top of the envelope, he slid a set of neatly typed orders out and began to read.

_From: The Office of His Excellency, Emperor Gregor Vorbarra  
To: Ambassador Captain Lord Ivan Vorpatril (ret.)_

**_Subject:_ ** _Priority Orders & New Assignment (MOST SECRET)_

_You are Requested and Required to prepare yourself and your family to leave your posting and transition your embassy to Col. Lord Spiro Vormatsos by no later than 2 weeks of receiving this order._

A secret transfer? That was odd. His appointment to Earth had been public knowledge. Vormatsos was equally confusing. He’d heard of the man, but as far as ivan knew he was relatively new in his position as well. Something about a promotion from the Special Envoy job at Pol to heading up his own embassy had been going through the grapevine while they'd prepared to head to Earth.

The hair on the back of his neck was standing up now. Something was definitely up.

_You are to rendezvous with his Majesty’s Imperial Vessel Admiral Aral Vorkosigan at the United Earth EuroSec orbital transfer station to accompany his Imperial Highness on a diplomatic mission._

Huh. That was the newest and slickest ship in the Imperial Navy, just out of her shakedown cruise. Probably a decent sized cabin for the VIP quarters, but depending how long the trip was to take it might be a tight fit. Good thing little Padma Shiv didn’t inherit his mother’s jump sickness.

_To facilitate this effort, you have been appointed as the Ambassador Extraordinary and Plenipotentiary to the Court of Emperor Fletchir Giaja as of this date…_

“Gregor, _what the HELL.”_

He hadn’t meant to shout quite that loud. Apparently even the heavy construction of his door hadn’t been quite enough to keep his outburst from escaping, since his aide cautiously opened his door and poked his head in like a confused deer.

“Sir? Is…everything quite all right?”

Ivan took a slow, deep breath, and sat back in his chair, having bolted straight upright at that last sentence.

“It’s…complicated. I’ve received some new instructions from home.” Filling the mug back up from his carafe, he pulled open the bottom drawer of his desk and added a healthy slug of the brandy Miles had sent over for his last birthday.

“Please call my wife, and ask her if she can come to the embassy as soon as possible. Then…” He paused, and shook his head. “No, sorry, I’ll take care of the rest from that end. Please inform the staff that I’m to be reassigned to a new posting by His Majesty’s request, and we need to start prepping to brief my replacement when he comes in.”

His aide started to leave, then he held up his free hand. “Wait. Aren’t we supposed to have a dinner in a few days with the Vervani ambassador?”

“That’s correct, Sir.”

“Please extend my sincere apologies to the honorable ambassador, and explain that due to a request from my government, I’m going to be unavailable for the next two weeks. Then let Vormatsos handle the rest. It can be his welcome to town gig.”

“Very good, Ambassador.”

“Not for much longer, I’m not…”

The rest of the letter. Right.

_Please prepare any materials you feel will be helpful for your replacement to review prior to his arrival and return them with the attending courier._

_Regards,_

_His Imperial Majesty, Gregor Vorbarra_

_P.S.: Miles will be meeting us there, too._

This time, Ivan managed to flip on the cone of silence around his desk before letting loose a few choice expressions, typing up a brief précis to hand over to the courier as he went.


	9. This all seems strange.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Ivan Xav. What has your cousin gotten you into now?”

_London  
Earth_

Tej had been surprised, to say the least, when Ivan Xav’s office had called and asked for her to come in to the embassy as soon as possible. Fortunately she had a good nanny service that she could call to take care of Padma on short notice.

The London rain was cold, wet, and driving when she stepped out in it, making her shiver a bit despite the heavy jacket she’d grabbed on her way out of the door. Fortunately, a cab had been coming through, and she was able to wave him down quickly enough.

Her mind spun as the driver navigated through London traffic on the way to the embassy. Was he hurt? Had he somehow had an accident on the way in? He couldn’t have been in the office that long – he’d only left the house half an hour ago.

What was going on?

* * *

 

She arrived at the door to the embassy just in time to see a man walking out in Imperial Service greens, with a heavy travel kit manacled to his arm.

 _OK, that’s a courier of some kind. Did Ivan Xav get news from home? Lady Alys? Simon?_ Would they send something by courier if something had happened to Dada, the Baronne, or the rest of her family? At least he wasn’t hurt, so that slate of worries could be wiped clean.

After making her way into the foyer, she found herself being politely escorted up to her husband’s office by his aide, and after a knock at the door followed by a brief exchange, she was being shown in.

She appreciated the way he looked in one of his nicer new suits, flatteringly cut in Vorpatril blue, but he looked some strange combination of annoyed, bemused, and terrified as he handled a letter that must have come from the courier.

“Ivan Xav. What has your cousin gotten you into now?”

“Hah. I like that you’ve decided Miles must be involved.”

“Am I right?”

“Not…entirely.”

She sat down, and decided she’d refrain from commenting on the aroma of brandy coming from his coffee mug. He certainly seemed sober at the moment, anyway.

“I’ve been given a message from Gregor.”

Suddenly, she was back to her earlier worries.

“Is your mother all right? Is Simon?”

That made him blink in surprise, and his expression softened. “Oh. No. No, it’s nothing like that. They’re both fine.”

“So what did The Gregor send you?”

His lips quirked at the private nickname, and he sighed before explaining the news.

“He’s asking us to leave Earth. I’m being given…well, I suppose you could call it a promotion.”

“That’s wonderful! I wouldn’t have expected it so soon, but I’m proud of you, Ivan Xav.”

He held up a hand. “Wait until I explain what it is.”

She sat back, frowning. “They aren’t sending us to the Whole, are they?”

“Hah. No. But, almost as bad. We’ve been…” He paused, and shook his head slightly. “I’ve been asked to serve as the Ambassador to the court of Fletchir Giaja.”

“We’re going to Cetaganda?” Suddenly, she started to understand why he’d needed that shot of brandy. “You said Miles is involved, though.”

“I’m less clear about that part. We’re going to be meeting Gregor here, on Earth, and then traveling with him to Eta Ceta, where Miles is apparently waiting for us.”

“He’s coming to get us? Personally?”

“Yeah…that’s very odd. Way out of the norm. In fact…” His face went still in thought as he started to consider what he’d just said a few minutes ago. “He wants us to _accompany_ him to Eta Ceta. That means the Celestial Garden.”

“Does he visit other nations?”

“Rarely, but it’s happened. Generally, though, anyone who needs to talk to him is expected to come to Barrayar.”

“This all seems strange.”

“It’s practically unprecedented. Particularly considering the context…” Ivan Xav took the coffee mug and sipped it, then put it down with a slight shake of his head. “And Miles is already there, apparently.” His eyes flicked up at the ceiling, then back down. He thumbed the button for the office’s silencing equipment, and she could feel a slight buzz that vibrated just at the edge of her hearing.

“I think I need to talk to your grandmother. Do you think she’d be willing to take my call?”

“I’m sure she would. But you might have to promise a visit with her great-grandson to seal the Deal.”

* * *

 

Unfortunately, Lady Ghem-Estif didn’t have much light to shed on the situation, though she mentioned hearing about “a great deal of commotion” from some of her old acquaintances back home. At least she’d been able to answer Ivan’s secondary concern, which was to make sure that there wasn’t likely to be any retribution or stigma attached to Tej for the destruction of the gene survey.

After making arrangements for her to visit for a day before they would need to leave, Ivan sat back, cheeks puffing with a sigh. “So.”

“So.”

“We’ll need to pack – I’d suggest starting light. Anything big, we may as well ship home, and most of our clothes we can replace with more appropriate fashions once we arrive.”

“Good idea, but one exception.”

Ivan Xav smiled – he had a feeling he knew what it was.

“You are KEEPING your good suits with us, Ivan Xav.”

“Yes, my love.”


	10. Contingency

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Laisa's eyes narrowed, and she leaned back slightly, sweeping her gaze over him. “Exactly how angry with you am I going to be after this conversation?”

_The Imperial Residence_  
Vorbarr Sultana  
Barrayar

After dancing on knives for the last several months, Gregor was starting to feel a sense of building anticipation. Things were coming together, and the roadblocks and barriers he’d feared might bar the way had fallen, one by one.

Now, however, he had to deal with the hardest challenge, which he had set for himself, alone, before he could start his journey.

“Gerard?”

“Sire.”

“Please ask the Empress if she could come to my study.”

“At once, sire.”

He sat on an old couch that he’d rescued from one of Lady Alys’ periodic redecorating sweeps just after he’d formally taken over the camp stool. It was old, dating back to the edge of the Time of Isolation, and generations of Vorbarra backsides had broken the leather upholstered cushions into a buttery softness. It was quite possibly one of his favorite pieces of furniture in three worlds.

Even though he needed to be serious, he couldn’t help but smile as Laisa came in. He smiled every time she stepped into a room, ever since the day they’d met.

“Good evening, dear.”

“Hello, love.”

She settled into a chair facing him, and looked suspiciously at the tray sitting between them.

“Gregor.”

“Yes, Laisa.”

“That’s chocolate.”

“Yes.”

“Komarran chocolate.”

“It is.”

“From the family that made those amazing truffles you got me for Winterfair. Except I note that they’ve added a ‘By appointment to the Imperial family’ tag to the label.”

“So it would seem.”

Laisa's eyes narrowed, and she leaned back slightly, sweeping her gaze over him. “Exactly how angry with you am I going to be after this conversation?”

Gregor took a deep breath, and forced his hands to relax. “Possibly very much. Hence the chocolate.”

“I commend your instincts, dear, but I think I’d rather have an explanation.”

“The final protocols appear to be finished. A joint announcement will be made from Eta Ceta and the Residence next week.”

“That strikes me as good news. Though I expect the uproar is going to be something to see, on both ends of the spectrum.”

“Mmm. Fortunately we were able to brief the Counts who absolutely needed to know in private, and they’ve kept the matter secret.”

“So when are we leaving?” Her face turned sharp. He must have grimaced slightly. The “Rod Up My Imperial Butt” look didn’t work quite so well on the woman who woke up next to you every morning.

“You…don’t intend for me to go.”

“No. I need to ask you to stay, please.”

She looked hurt, for a moment, but then Dr. Toscane came to the fore, and she sat up a little straighter, her expression settling down into businesslike attention.

“All right, Gregor. I’m listening. Please explain why you would like me to stay here.”

He wanted to reach across the table and kiss her, which would be totally inappropriate. The level of sheer poise and common sense she possessed was as exquisite as the rest of her. But he did owe her an explanation.

“I truly don’t believe that I will be in danger on this journey. I think that the summit, once I reach the Celestial Garden, should go well. I believe that we are prepared to handle the reactionary elements of our worlds, and that they are prepared to address their own.”

He looked down at his hands, and linked them together before he met her gaze.

“But I could be wrong. And if I were wrong, I am already placing myself and my dearest friends in danger.”

She listened, nodding slightly, but did not respond, allowing him to go on.

“There is also the matter of the children, who I don’t wish to deprive of both parents…and while our son would, in theory, be confirmed as Emperor if I were to die, I would hope that he could have an advisor…perhaps even a full Regent…that he could rely upon.”

Her breath caught, and she gave him the kind of look he was used to giving Miles. Or Ivan, occasionally.

“Gregor, are you seriously proposing that I could be appointed as Regent? As a woman? A _Komarran_ woman?”

His lips twitched again. “It would face some resistance, but thanks to Aral and Cordelia, there is some precedent, and this is NOT my Grandfather’s day, thank God. I‘ve also spent some time the past few weeks making it quite clear what my preferences would be, in the event.”

“I could potentially be fighting a war.”

“Unless we are utterly, shockingly betrayed, I’m rather hoping that you would be preventing one.”

That gave her pause, as well.

“I don’t know if I’d have the strength to do that.”

“I know you do.”

Tears welled at the edges of her eyes. She stepped around the table, and nearly tackled him with the intensity of her embrace. For a long moment, their bodies were entwined, their lips caressing, and nothing else existed outside of their hearts’ voices.

“I’ll stay, Gregor. But you make damn sure that you come home, and make this whole conversation unnecessary.”

Another kiss, and they settled into each other, resting on the couch.

“As my Lady commands.”


	11. The World Turned Upside Down

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Miles was still in a mild state of shock. Despite being involved in, ye gods, almost four straight months of making this visit happen, it was a bit surreal for the day to have finally arrived.

_The Celestial Garden  
Eta Ceta_

Miles was still in a mild state of shock. Despite being involved in, ye gods, almost four straight months of making this visit happen, it was a bit surreal for the day to have finally arrived.

Galactic news agencies were swarming in Eta Ceta’s orbital lanes, carefully kept at arm’s length by the Celestial Garden’s security forces and orbital traffic control. A very few carefully vetted holographers and reporters had been given access to document the event, but would go no further than the gated entrance to the Garden. That, too, had generated a fair share of grumbling, but between the Imperial Guard and ImpSec, the decision had been absolute.

Still. This was history in the making, and he suspected that most of the ones stuck in orbit would have given just about anything to trade places.

Miles was back in his best Vorkosigan livery again, including the odd juxtaposition of his Auditor’s chain and the Order of Merit, while Ekaterin and the rest of the embassy’s staff waited beside him at the first row of dignitaries along a carefully cleared and prepared pathway.

He knew the timing better than his children’s birthdays, now, after the long process of hammering down the timetable, rehearsals, reviews, and revisions. Lady Alys would have been proud of the meticulous choreography behind the scenes, had she been there to see it.

The sound of grav lifters was a low whisper on the air, gradually growing louder as a single drop shuttle descended from orbit on a long, graceful curve. Elegantly appointed in black, with the Vorbarra crest tastefully picked out in silver on each side, it was barely using any power when it finally came to a gentle rest on the designated landing area, with the pathway ending just before the shuttle’s door.

_Bonus pay for that pilot_ , Miles thought, _and maybe he’d like a kitten._

There was a long still moment where it seemed like everyone was holding their breath, and then things began to move.  At each of the pathway, a door opened. One lead out of the shuttle, the other would lead into the gate and the Celestial Garden itself.

From one side, two lines of Vorbarra armsmen marched out, lined up perfectly on each edge of the path. Carrying only their ceremonial blades and wearing the finest version of their house livery, each man stood at rigid, formal attention. At a pre-determined point, one man on each side stopped, turning inwards to face each other as the rest went on.

Gregor had brought half his score, leaving the rest with Laisa and the children. They made an impressive display despite themselves

Beneath their feet, the path began to change from a simple grey material to a pattern of woven red and blues, perfectly matching the Imperial Service’s parade dress.

From the garden, Dag Benin lead his own men out in their blood red finest, the most elaborate and carefully applied face paint in intricate whorls and ridges that defined their features, yet rendered them strangely alien.

They, too, were armed only with a ceremonial blade, and repeated the same precisely measured spacing as their pathway turned a rich gold, interwoven with black and red accents.

When the final pair on each side met in the middle of the pathway, Benin and Gregor’s chief armsman faced each other, and exchanged a formal salute before turning to face their partners, and the ceremonial swords were drawn and raised into parade salutes.

From the seemingly clear sky, the sound of a massive bell resounded in a set of deep tones, and as the final one died away, a burst of color and movement left the Gate.

Fletchir Giaja was draped in a riot of colorful, elaborate robes so intricate that a ba flanked him on either side to ensure they were perfectly presented. A few paces behind him, a float bubble in a delicate shade of blue lead the way for another three bubbles that filled in behind.

Once the Celestial Master of the Cetagandan Empire reached the perimeter of his guardsmen, it was time for the Emperor of Barrayar to emerge.

Gregor was dressed in his complete parade dress uniform, perfectly turned out as he stepped confidently onto a world he never could have expected to see with his own eyes. Behind him, Ivan followed at a respectful distance in his House Vorpatril uniform, with his Service decorations arranged in a surprisingly full array. He had Tej on his arm, dressed in a shimmering gown of some golden material that complimented her darker skin tone and the trim on Ivan’s jacket and trousers.

As he reached the midpoint between their symbolic authorities, Gregor drew to a halt, and came to a carefully calculated parade rest.

Giaja’s voice was clear and easily heard through the assembly as he offered a careful and respectful bow to his guest, the ba subtly making sure he wasn’t overbalanced by his finery.

“Welcome to the Celestial Garden, Gregor Vorbarra. I offer you the hospitality of my Home and House, in my own Breath and Voice.”

That, Miles had to admit, was a nice touch.

Gregor returned the bow, perhaps just a fraction deeper in deference to his host, then straightened, his own words equally clear.

“I am honored to accept your offer, Fletchir Giaja. I look forward to a memorable visit.”

“Indeed. Please allow me the honor of introducing my wife Rian, Keeper of the Star Creche.” The blue bubble moved forward, and perhaps became just translucent enough for Gregor to see the outline of a woman’s form for a few moments.

“I am indeed honored, Haut Rian.” His bow to her was equally correct, and a moment later he extended a hand to Ivan and Tej.

“I believe you are familiar with Lord Ivan Vorpatril, who shall be serving as my Ambassador to your court. May I also make you known to his wife, the Lady Akuti Tejaswini Jyoti ghem Estif Arqua Vorpatril.”

Miles wasn’t sure what was more surprising – the fact that Gregor actually delivered Tej’s full name in one easy breath, or the slight murmur from the crowd at the realization that Ivan was married to a woman who was, at least in part, one of their own.

Since Giaja and his court had been fully briefed on the Imperial party, and his new Ambassador, it was simply met with a slightly raised eyebrow before he offered his own greeting.

“Welcome to the Celestial Garden. We look forward to further discussions with you, but may I offer you the opportunity to refresh yourselves?”

Gregor took the lead, regardless of the fact that they’d spent a day and a half in orbit as final preparations were nailed down.

“We would be delighted. Your excellency is most gracious.”

After a carefully calculated set of maneuvers, Fletchir Giaja turned and lead the way into his realm. Rian followed behind, then Gregor at a respectful distance, followed by the remaining Imperial wives, and finally Ivan and Tej. The Vorbarra armsmen and Cetagandan Guards compacted back into their original formation, saluted each other, then sheathed their blades. Each group combined into a single file line, closed ranks until they stood shoulder to shoulder, and marched behind their masters, the pathway beneath them slowing turning back to a plain grey.  Finally the last pair had disappeared through, and the gate slid closed behind it.

Miles sagged just a bit as Ekaterin took his arm. Fatigue? Relief? All of the above?

“Done. Oh, god. It worked. Well, this worked. There’s plenty more to come, still, but nothing exploded, nobody died, my legs aren’t being electrocuted…”

She’d heard that story, or at least bits and pieces of it, and gave a reassuring smile as she guided him towards the aircars that had been provided to return them to the embassy. Gregor and his group would, in fact, be joining them shortly – the entrance into the garden was symbolic. The real work would begin in two days, after a reception in their honor.

Still. A Barrayaran Emperor had come to Eta Ceta. Not as a prisoner, a conqueror, or a corpse. He’d arrived as a guest, and been greeted with all due ceremony. He couldn’t help but feel like the universe had just tilted a bit off-axis, somehow.


	12. Words From The Precipice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Congratulations, Gregor. You managed to survive the arrival, the reception, and a formal dinner at the Polian embassy."

_Barryaran Embassy_

_Eta Ceta_

_  
_"Congratulations, Gregor. You managed to survive the arrival, the reception, and a formal dinner at the Polian embassy." Gregor didn't laugh, quite, at Ivan's analysis, but he smiled as his friends settled into the small conference room that Gregor had claimed as an office, in addition to the room that had been prepared for his use.

"Thank you, Ivan. It's gone as well as could be expected, so far." He'd worn a formal suit to the dinner, rather than his parade uniform. The colors were Vorbarra black with silver accents, but the fact that it was cut in a Komarran style was his own nod to bringing assimilation forward, one step at a time. Slipping the jacket off, he let it drape across the back of station chair. "But tomorrow is where we'll face the real test."

"Not entirely true," Miles countered, "These were certainly the largest security concerns. I have every faith in Dag Benin's commitment to your safety, but we certainly don't have a monopoly on armed reactionaries."

Gregor grimaced slightly, and gave a nod of agreement as he settled into a chair. Seeing the way Miles and Ekaterin had worked together, or the careful way Ivan and Tej worked the crowd at dinner to their best advantage, he felt a brief pang for Laisa. He knew he'd made the right decision, but some part of him longed to hold her and just talk about everything he'd seen. Given how rare (and difficult) it was for them to leave the Empire, this trip had been a remarkable journey even without the politcally earthshaking context. Perhaps they could make an effort to plan some state visits after this, and he'd make it up to her with a little vacation along the way. Earth, perhaps? He'd barely had a chance to look down at the surface of humanity's cradle before they'd left. Laisa had mentioned she'd never been...

Pulling himself back to reality, he looked over at his foster brother. "You've had time to gauge Fletchir Giaja. How receptive do you think he will be tomorrow?"

Miles was thoughtful, trading glances with his Countess before speaking. "After he got over the initial surprise, I think his curiousity was genuine. He's going to be paying attention to what you have to say, but he hasn't changed that much from my first visit. I suspect he tends to find treating with anyone outside of the haut a bit bemusing at some level. You'll be taken seriously, but I wouldn't expect any major reactions in the moment."

Ekaterin took over, rubbing one hand over the other's knuckles as she spoke. "I was invited to spend some time with the Lady Rian, and a few of her peers. From what I could guage, she's interested in what you have to say. Even if he isn't immediately receptive, she might be an advocate for you. But it's hard to predict exactly how much influence she may have."

Gregor considered that. 

"That's at least a starting point. I'll make my case tomorrow and..." He trailed off. The smiles ranged from enthusiastic to bemused. They all knew how he would generally finish that sentence. "Well. It seems I don't need to say it."

That drew a chuckle, letting off just a bit more of the tension that felt like a constant presence at the edge of his mind. 

"Time for some rest, I think. Tomorrow will be a demanding day."

* * *

 

_The Celestial Garden_

_  
_After some discussions, the decision was made to create a pavillion large enough to hold the diplomatic parties in a fair bit of comfort, with a beautiful round table of blonde wood that complimented the sense of spring within the force-shielded capital. Security detachments created a perimeter, but some space was left for parties to walk away, or around, to clear heads and perhaps discuss some matters informally.

Fletchir Giaja's robes were a bit less elaborate today, but his facial decorations still spoke to careful preparation. Gregor made the decision to wear another Komarran style suit, this time in a light grey that he felt made him look in control without attempting to intimidate. Each man was broadcasting that he was secure in his power, in their own ways, and the body language on both sides spoke of an unshakable confidence.

After the orchestrated speeches of welcome and appreciation were finished, they paused to allow a few more pictures to be captured before the press were escorted to the outer perimeter, and Fletchir Giaja began the real discussion.

"You went to extraordinary lengths to seek this audience. We would ask you to explain, Gregor Vorbarra, what it is you seek."

Miles was a bit surprised when Gregor stood to make his case, his gaze level and locked onto his counterpart.

"For more than four generations, our nations have been intertwined. From the Ghem invasion and the ninth satrapy to more recent matters, Barrayar and Cetaganda have become partners in a dangerous and potentially ruinous dance." He didn't mention Rho Ceta, but the implications of "recent matters" covered quite a few events - including more than a few moments where war seemed inevitable. "I will concede that this has borne fruit for Barrayar - in many ways, your influence upon us, and the repercussions in our society, drove us forward. Our technology raced ahead, and our society has, slowly, caught up. Because we feared you, we built a military that could equal yours. Because you showed us that we had no allies, we claimed them, at first by force, and later through mutual need. Because you inflicted lasting harm, we sought weapons of truly terrible power and intent."

As he spoke, Gregor seemed to wind himself taut, fully energized and in Politician mode. If he'd been in the Residence, or even on the floor of the Council of Counts, Miles would have expected him to start pacing. Instead, he used his hands, carefully expressive as he spoke.

"We have come far from our Time of Isolation, yet we still feel that shade of fear behind us." His hands relaxed, and Gregor gathered himself, letting the tension flow out of him.

"I am a father now. In the near future, I'm likely to become a grandfather. It has made me think a great deal about what the future will hold for those children. For them, and for my People, I made the decision to come into this place. The very heart of your power. I have come, Fletchir Giaja, Celestial Master of the haut, because I desire peace, and I hope that you will help me to make it so."

The silence that settled after Gregor finished speaking and returned to his seat lasted for what felt like an eternity. Giaja had been still during it all, keeping his gaze on Gregor and listening, but his face did not betray his thoughts.

"You say you wish peace. I ask, then,  what you would call the past thirty years - a significant period, by your reckoning."

Gregor leaned forward slightly. "Detente, at best. A stalemate, at worst. The more our nations waited, we prepared for greater and greater conflicts. Our last direct confrontation may have been at the Hegen Hub, but we maneuvered against each other through proxies and shadows frequently since that time." Fletchir Giaja's eyes flicked to Miles, seated on the Barrayaran half of the table. He'd been at the heart of quite a few of those shadow battles, something that they were unlikely to forget. "We earned mutual respect in...many ways. Some of which I think we would agree cannot be spoken of, even here. But we have always been wary, watching for a spark that would ignite a lethal blaze."

His hand came up again, gesturing out at the force dome that hid the skies.

"Early in Earth's history, before humanity began to spread to the stars, two empires divvied up the planet between them, or their proxies. They each expected the other to strike them, looking to seize resources, territory, or simply because they could. They, too, built terrible weapons, in greater and greater numbers. At their peak, they reached a point called Mutually Assured Destruction. Were one to strike the other, it was certain that the retaliation would destroy them both."

His eyes flashed with intensity as he focused on his opposite, a man who had lived through much of his nation's modern history, yet did not look so far beyond his own age.

"If there was war between us - not a border conflict, or a brief clash of mercenaries, but true total war, we would eviscerate each other. Whomever stood at the end would have shattered worlds, decimated populations, and a spent industrial base. A hollow victory that could easily lead to collapse. It is time to step back from the brink of our own annihilation."

The haut emperor did not look to any of the floating bubbles around him, but there was a sense that he was still gauging their reactions.

"So you seek a formal peace, then. But a diplomatic agreement, if one can be reached, will not un-create weapons, or undo years of conflict."

"It will not. But it is a place to begin. And if you wish to discuss matters of disarmament, that, too, is a process which could begin here."

Fletchir Giaja rose, slowly, and looked carefully at the Emperor who had come to him.

"We have much to consider. The haut and the ghem have sought to improve ourselves through competition. As you have learned, it can be a powerful force. One which brings greatness to those who can master themselves. You ask us to deny ourselves the possibility of one such competition."

"We are not the only realm that you have....competed against. But that sword can be turned both ways. We are also not the only nation that has found terrible strength in the hopes of preempting such possibilities."

That, too, earned an acknowledging nod. If Miles had to guess, the only nation that didn't beef up their military every time they feared the ghem were getting frisky was Beta Colony, and he shuddered to think about what would happen if some fool of a ghem-general decided to try.

"We shall give your words due thought. If you would care to return to your embassy, a messenger will be sent once We are ready for further discussions." 

Another set of formal bows and dismissals were exchanged, and the two groups parted company. Miles wasn't shocked at all that one particular float chair seemed to linger for a few minutes, then turned away.

_Now we wait...and see what happens._


	13. Tea and Roses

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She imagined she could see a bit of her grandmother as a younger woman in the Empress, and the way she carried herself, and perhaps a touch of The Baronne as well. She had a certain presence that was quiet, yet demanded full attention.

Tej hadn’t been surprised when she and Ekaterin were invited to a private tea with the Empress Rian a few days after Gregor’s first meeting with Fletcher Giaja. She’d been used to plenty of situations where an informal contact was made between meetings back when Dada and the Baronne were maneuvering against their fellow Great Houses, and she’d learned very quickly that people who wanted to quietly give some information to Ambassador Lord Vorpatril, particularly on their occasional visits back to Barrayar, saw Lady Vorpatril as a convenient channel.

She suspected that Ekaterin had experienced the same thing as Countess Vorkosigan, particularly given the nature of Miles’s ‘day job’. They’d gone for two different, but quite fitting, styles of formality. Ekaterin was clad in a flowing top that complimented her lean build, in a cut that was reminiscent of the way Tej had seen women dressing in Hassadar on her last visit. Instead of a flowing skirt, she’d decided to wear a set of Komarran style trousers and a set of practical but formal looking boots, with her hair artfully arranged down her back.

Tej, on the other hand, wore a sari in intricately decorated silk, with a contrasting wrap of brightly colored fabric that set off her tawny eyes, and her naturally curly hair bound up.

“That’s an interesting look for you, Tej.”

“One of the outfits I brought from Earth, rather than shipping home. I’ll probably be acquiring more…locally appropriate formalwear, but I didn’t want to give the wrong impression.”

Before either could expand, an aircar had arrived for them, and a ba politely ushered them into their seats before carrying them into the Celestial Garden and eventually guiding them to a smaller force bubble within the larger dome. Tej didn’t see the ba make any form of signal, but somehow an opening appeared as they reached the perimeter, and she could smell hints of roses and sweet grasses in the air.

Once inside, they were inside a beautifully arranged space that managed to give a sense of being both a garden and a conference room. She saw Ekaterin’s professionally appraising gaze sweep over the flora and decorations, and noticed her hands twitch slightly with what had to be suppressed longing for her own work.

The surface of the bubble had a projection of a pale sky, touched with artfully arranged clouds, and she wondered how it was so beautifully done until another portal opened. This was wide enough for a haut woman’s floater, and indeed one entered.

To her surprise, shortly after the force dome was once again sealed, this time the bubble faded slowly into nothingness, and a woman with elegant dark hair and a thoughtful expression stepped onto the grass.

She imagined she could see a bit of her grandmother as a younger woman in the Empress, and the way she carried herself, and perhaps a touch of The Baronne as well. She had a certain presence that was quiet, yet demanded full attention.

“Welcome. Thank you for joining me.”

Ekaterin gave a graceful curtsey, which Tej emulated. “It was our honor to accept the invitation.”

Tej realized after a moment of listening to their slightly flattened voices that they were in a sound-deadening environment, in addition to the total privacy of the force dome.

“I hope you will feel comfortable here. I have made sure we can enjoy as close to true privacy as anyone in our positions might hope for.” Rian gestured to a low table, next to a stand of roses, where a pot, cups, and dishes had been set.

They settled in, with Tej briefly trying to figure out the protocol, drawing on the knowledge she’d worked to build as Ivan Xav had taken on his new career. They were guests, which normally implied being served first, but they were also speaking with someone who was considered a greater authority and privilege, but from a totally different _system_. She was about to find a way to carefully ask when Rian took the question away by pouring a cup and setting it in front of her.

“I have had the opportunity to speak with the Countess earlier. It was…an interesting conversation.” From the way Ekaterin’s lips quirked, and Ivan’s admission that he and Miles had met the Emperor and Empress of Cetaganda before, she had a feeling that they’d spent most of it trading stories. Thinking of the way she and her sisters had occasionally dissected each other’s romantic history, it made her feel a bit more comfortable. Empress or not, haut or not, they weren’t that different after all. A smile started to spread across her face.

This was going to be _fun._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was originally going to go somewhere different, and be a longer conversation, but things just sort of naturally lead here. Besides, after all that serious stuff, I think my brain needed something lighter just as badly as they did.


	14. War Stories

When Tej and Ekaterin had left to meet with Rian, Miles had expected to have a fairly quiet afternoon to catch up on news from the District, as conveyed from his voting proxy by tightbeam. Instead, he'd been pleasantly surprised to be informed by the embassy's security detail that he had a visitor.

Shutting down his comconsole, Miles had walked down to the foyer to find Dag Benin waiting for him. Rather than wearing his uniform, Dag was dressed in a relatively informal set of robes and flowing pants, and his face was marked with his personal clan designs and an accenting stripe of red to denote his service to the Imperial House - about as casual as possible when not visiting a family member.

"Good afternoon, Count."

"Hello, Dag! I'm pretty sure that you can call me Miles, since we're both out of uniform at the moment." In fact, Miles was wearing a loose set of ship-knits that called to mind his old Dendarii fatigues. Ekaterin had, on occasion, tried to get him into a few more colors, but if left to his own devices the old grey and white or his house colors tended to dominate his closet.

Benin gave a fairly amused nod of his head, and gestured to a box sitting on one of the end tables. "I have been politely instructed to take a rest day, and thought this might be a good occasion to enjoy a less formal visit." Opening the box, Miles gave an involuntary whistle. 

"These are Barrayaran wines! Late Time of Isolation vintages. I had no idea you were an antique collector, Dag."

"In truth, I had not developed an appreciation for your native product until my state visit, but these are rather unique specimens."

"Ah?" Miles picked up the box with appreciation, and gestured back towards his temporary office. "Well, let's sit down and you can tell me what makes them so special - aside from their age."

After geting them both settled in a pair of comfortable chairs, Miles lifted one of the bottles out and gently cradled it in his hands, running fingers over the cool glass.

"This really is remarkable. A bottle from this era is rare back home, let alone out here."

"Indeed." Benin smiled, and gestured at the box. "In fact, that rarity is why these were so valued. In the course of my duties, I recently exposed a group of ghem-Lords who had been dealing in...unusual vintages. Ordinarily not a concern of my office, but they had turned to some unsavory methods to acquire new and unusual items...as a result, their collections were seized as contraband."

Miles to a moment to process that. "You're saying that, essentially, there's a black market out here for Barrayaran alcohol?" 

"Among others. Vervain, Marilac, and Nuovo Brasalia are also well valued." 

The idea that the ghem were essentially trading in wines (and, Miles assumed, other beverages) from worlds they had suffered significant military defeats at was as fascinating as it was mind-boggling.

"Well. I have to admit, it takes a lot to surprise me these days, but that certainly qualifies. May I invite you to help me to dispose of the evidence?"

"It would be my great pleasure."

"Any objection if I call Ivan down? I'm looking forward to the look on his face when you explain how you got these."

"Certainly."

As it turned out, Ivan was less surprised that Miles had expected. "Considering the cases of wine and wine glasses I found in the old ninth satrapy bunker, I'm not shocked at all to find that some of them made it back out here." He'd stopped in the embassy kitchens on the way over, bless him, and delivered a corkscrew to Miles along with a few glasses.

Benin gave Ivan a suddenly appraising look. "Bunker?"

He nodded, pulling over his own chair, and at Miles' encouraging nod settled in to tell the story while Miles uncorked the first bottle, took an experimental sniff to make sure it hadn't gone off, then distributed the first round. "It all started with my wife's family, y'see...well...actually I suppose it properly started with By showing up at my doorstep and asking me to see if I could get a girl to go out with me on a date." 

He explained some brief details of his reverse courtship, the reunion with House Cordonah, and eventually how he became trapped inside the old bunker - with a sideline into the old ImpSec HQ's resulting submergence after his rescue, which still made Miles wince.

Benin's expressions ranged from amused to horrified at various points, but finally settled into a respectul sort of pleasure at the end, saluting Ivan with his glass after he'd come to a close.

"I was aware of the Lady Ghem-Estif's decision to...eliminate...the gene survey, but not how it had come into her possession. Quite fascinating." Sipping his wine and pausing in appreciation, the ghem-General gave the new ambassador an appraising look. "I am curious - were you aware your wife was of the ghem at the time you decided to marry her?"

"I'd been told her mother was Cetagandan, yes, but to be honest it hadn't entirely sunk in at that point." Ivan knocked back rather more than a sip, but Miles had to admit that if he had a Jacksonian great house for HIS in-laws, he'd probably be doing the same. "In all honesty, though, Tej tends to think of herself as Jacksonian more than anything else. Her mother and grandmother respect their heritage, but they don't really push it."

"Mm. Did it cause you any difficulty, socially?"

"Less than you'd think. Offworld matches became very much en vogue after Gregor's wedding, and enough galactic concerns have begun to partner with Barrayaran and Komarran companies that we're actually seeing an increasing level of immigration."

"I'm surprised. We....tend to assume that we will be treated as an enemy, even now."

Miles broke back into the conversation. "My grandfather's generation would have. Perhaps even my father's. And we've still had some hiccups, here and there. But my mother used to say that she didn't see enemies when she looked at Barrayarans after Escobar - just victims on either side. I won't try to tell you that the occupation has been forgotten, but I think we're reaching the point where it's history to be understood, rather than a fresh wound." He paused for a drink of his own, rolling the glass gently and watching the dark fluid swish back and forth. "In my case, it also helps that I've had the opportunity to meet you, Pel, and others...you're not just faceless bogeymen or words on a page. It's hard to hate a group when you start understanding there are people on the other side. I remember something m'mother said...she didn't see enemies or allies, after Escobar. Just victims."

"Your mother is an insightful woman." Dag saluted her with his glass, then drained it. Miles poured a fresh round for his guest, then let him continue. "It occurs to me that we have ended up in remarkably similar positions - you are, perhaps, less concerned with the physical security of your Emperor, but we each investigate matters at their pleasure."

"Heh. Yeah, among other things..." Miles grinned. "Do you get any truly bizarre ones, at your end of things? Aside from, say, a bunch of disappearing replicators..." 

He got a pretty venomous look for that one, but it softened into consideration as the Cetagandan gave the question due thought. "There was one...you are aware, of course, of the tradition of artistry among the ghem, vying for inclusion in the Garden?"

"Hard to forget, considering how it impacted our last visit."

"True," Dag sipped his wine again, then continued. "The Celestial Lady has a certain fondness for cakes. Both in appreciating the craft of the baker, and decoration. It did not go un-noticed among those who had such interests."

Given the way most ghem described their ideas to their contracted artisans, Miles supposed they couldn't exacly call it talent. Still, he gave a little snort of amusement, gesturing for the story to continue.

"Two such men became...competitive. Normally this is a healthy event, inspiring each to greater artistry. In this case, however, it became personal."

Both Barrayarans were fascinated. Miles' voice was breathless as he encouraged his guest to go on.

"I will not use names, as both men are still living. However, as their efforts escalated, one decided it was no longer enough to simply craft his own work. He made the decision to suborn one of the artisans working for his competitor, and paid handsomely to alter his latest work." Knowing that his audience was hanging on every word, he drew out a sip of his wine, then spoke again. "He learned that his rival would be presenting a recreation of the Celestial throne in mixed mediums, entirely edible. Nearly one hundred and fifty kilos of confections and decorations. The artisan was ordered to introduce an alteration to the food that would not affect the taste, but would allow it to react to a particular catalyst."

Miles shuddered in memory of Lord Yenaro's gown. "Nothing explosive, I trust?"

"Not in a physical sense, no." Benin's smile became quite nostalgic. "When the throne was being unveiled to the Celestial House, the catalyst was revealed to be a scent which the Empress is quite fond of." His expression was very much a 'this is funny now, but at the time it drove me quite mad' one. Miles imagined he looked fairly similar when sharing a few of his own stories. "As the Celestial Master and his empresses inspected the throne...it began to dissolve. In moments, it turned to a fragrant steam...and when the reaction had finished, a figure was left behind. A remarkably accurate reproduction of the Celestial Lady...without her clothes."

Ivan made an explosive sound, and only managed to keep from choking on his wine through a supreme effort of will. Miles was fortunate that he hadn't been drinking at the time, or he'd have been in the same position. If someone had done something similar with Gregor and Laisa...god, Allegre would have had a stroke.

Ivan seemed to be thinking the same. "You said both men are still alive?"

"The Empress herself interceded. After a thorough investigation of the matter, I was charged to bring both men to the Garden for an audience. She complimented both on their artistry...and observed that one of our more remote military outposts required new commissary officers."

"Ooo," Miles grinned wickedly, "Our equivalent is a lovely place called Kyril Island. Arctic training base, surrounded by miles of ocean and winds capable of demolishing small buildings."

"In this case, it was a biological research station. Within a rather impressive swamp."

"When are they expected to complete their...encouraged service?"

"Five years from now."

"See, Ivan? Could have been far worse - you only got stuck on Ylla for two."  
  
"Ha, ha, ha, Lord Auditor coz."


	15. From One Generation To Another

In the end, it would be another two weeks before a ba servitor arrived at the Barrayaran Embassy bearing an elaborately calligraphed scroll, which it would present with all due ceremony to Gregor. The message asked for him to allow the summit to resume the following day, and requested he bring the full retinue of his ambassador and retainers. It would seem that Fletchir Giaja had made a decision.

Gregor assembled the full complement of his most trusted friends, the staff of his embassy, and the armsmen and security personell who had come here with him. Dressed in the same uniform he'd worn to begin his work here on Eta Ceta, the Emperor of Barrayar arrived in the Celestial Garden with his foster brother sitting at his left hand, and his cousin on his right. It took all the skill he'd cultivated at containing and controlling his expression to maintain a studied, dignified air even as his stomach twisted in knots. 

ImpSec had been able to monitor the level of traffic coming from Eta Ceta to the other Satrapies, and there was no question that the Haut and Ghem had been involved in intense discussions, but it was impossible to determine what the nature of the messages was. 

After a few minutes, Fletchir Giaja arrived, surrounded by not only his empresses in their float bubbles and his ba servitors, but to Gregor's shock, that was not the extent of the Cetagandan retinue. Behind the initial rank of Imperial personages, now a group of eight men - the haut governors of each of the Satrapies - accompanied by their wives, and behind them a rank of ghem Generals and their attendants.

Yes, Fletchir Giaja had most certainly made a decision.

After a long beat, Fletchir Giaja came forward, and stood a few steps apart from his court, trailed by a single ba who helped to maintain his voluminous robe. "Gregor Vorbarra. Master of the Barrayaran Imperium."

Gregor stood from his chair, and moved a few steps towards his counterpart, giving him a graceful nod. 

"We have spent a great deal of time considering your decision to come here, and ask that we make a formal peace between Our empire and your own. You have asked that We make the decision to formally turn Our eyes from you, and allow the battles of the past to fade into memory."

Giaja gestured to the assembled governors, and the court behind them. 

"We have spoken with our Governors, and the assembled ranks of the Ghem. Despite the history of conflict between our peoples, they spoke of respect for your military's recent prowess. They spoke of surprise at your audacity...and one, above all others, spoke of your honor."

Giaja raised a hand, and the governor of Rho Ceta stepped apart from his brothers.

"When you first came here to speak with Us, you spoke of your children, and your grandchildren. For the sake of _his_ children, your Count Vorkosigan risked his honor and his life. That is a sacrifice which we honored. Now, by his example, we are compelled to act in kind."

The haut governor stepped back, and at some unspoken signal, a seat raised from the ground before Fletchir Giaja. He sat, gracefully, and Gregor felt a tiny tremor in the ground before a fairly passable version of his camp stool rose for him in kind.

"Understand me, Gregor Vorbarra. I cannot promise a permanent peace - such things are for myths and bedtime tales. You cannot speak to what generations unborn may do, nor can I commit my descendants." Gregor nodded. He suddenly thought he knew where this was going.

"What I will offer you, and the people of your Empire, is a treaty of peace that shall last until the final child that your empire saved has passed away. For the balance of their lives, we shall make no war upon you, nor shall we plan strikes from the shadows. We will allow your ambassador to treat with the ghem on opening new lines of trade. We shall appoint new ambassadors from the ghem and the haut to attend your court. What your generation has earned, your successors shall enjoy. Do you find this acceptable, Emperor of Barrayar?"

Gregor felt his entire body relax. The unspoken truth of this agreement was that it would likely last for at least a hundred years - perhaps more. By that time, who knew what might change? Perhaps there would be no need to formally renew a treaty. Perhaps the haut would have reached another stage in their strange design. Perhaps they, too, would be a different people without the threat of an interstellar war at the back of their minds. 

He would not live to see it. But perhaps a child bearing his name might.

Yes. That would be enough.

"Fletchir Giaja of the Haut, Celestial Master of the Cetagandan Empire. I, Gregor Vorbarra, accept your gracious offer, which you have made in your own Breath and Voice. By my word as a Vorbarra, we shall not make war upon you, nor plan to strike without honor."

A table rose between them. Gregor wondered, idly, just how he was triggering that. Or perhaps one of his Empresses was stage managing from within her brightly colored bubble? A ba brought a scroll to the table, outlining in formal language what Giaja had spoken. With a brush and ink, Fletchir Giaja signed the bottom in bold, flowing strokes. 

The scroll was brought to him, along with a more traditionally styled pen. Gregor signed his own name, clearly and bodly, then looked up. "I believe you are familiar with Our traditions, for formal documents such as this." 

Giaja nodded, and the ba stepped away respectfully. Gregor reached to his belt, and drew a seal dagger from its' sheath. He'd commissioned this one personally - not simply to mark the Vorbarra arms, but to mark the Imperial seal upon this, perhaps the most important piece of paper he would ever touch. Placing the seal next to his name, he reversed the blade in his hand, then pricked his finger lightly, squeezing it until he had worked up a small bead of blood. Rubbing it over the seal, he placed the most formal of approvals upon the treaty, then sheathed his dagger before the ba returned to take the treaty from the table.

"We shall send copies of this treaty to each of our satraps, and provide you with a copy for each of your worlds. There will be other matters to settle in terms of reducing our respective military presences, but We shall allow Our ambassadors to negotiate this. For now, let it be known that you have the peace which you sought, and may We offer you hopes for a safe return to your homeworld."

Gregor stood, and bowed. "Your wishes are most kind. We hope this journey shall perhaps be the first, not the last, and I look forward to productive discussions between Our nations going forward."

Giaja returned the bow, and at some wordless signal, his court began to withdraw. Gregor waited until Giaja and his empresses had retreated back into the depths of their garden, then turned to begin what would be a long journey home. As his armsmen lead the way back towards the exit, the embassy, and eventually his shuttle offworld, he let himself relax, slowly, not even noticing that Miles had moved into step with him until his foster brother spoke.

"Congratulations, Gregor. I'm honored that I could be here for this."

"Thank you, Miles. Without your help...god, without your help, we'd probably have already blasted each other to cinders twenty years ago."

"I got lucky - in the right place and the right time. You made this happen."

"I suppose I did. I'm lucky in my own way, though. None of this could have been possible without the right people at my side, every step of the way."

"So, what now?"

"Now...." Gregor smiled, appreciating the straight line, "Now, Count Vorkosigan, we go home...and see what happens."


End file.
